You Lose
by Crazy Girl Person
Summary: Having the Healing Touch will allow you to save patients no one else could save, Derek, but it is impossible to save everyone.


You Lose

The twilight sun sprawled over the ocean's skin. Sparkling dots of its caress danced on the churning waters, reminiscent of the turmoil felt by the eyes that watched it. Derek took in an uneasy breath, the distant ocean spray wetting his lips. Even from the high sanctuary of Caduceus's rooftop he could smell the sand and surf in the distance.

-----

[Caduceus Surgical Ward – OR number 3 - 8:45am

"C'mon! C'mon, dammit!"

Derek grit his teeth, his eyes narrowed into severe slits, as he compressed the patient's chest. The heart monitor twitched and broke its long held screech. "Clear!" Angie yelled. Derek drew his hands back and she moved in with the defibrillator. The patient's body jumped with the shock, as did the green line on the screen. It fluttered teasingly as doctor and nurse held their breath before tracing back into a straight line.

Derek returned to the chest compressions, his own heart pounding wildly. His breath came in strong bursts, enunciating each press against the man's sternum, until another broken note from the electrocardiograph sucked it away. "Clear!" He moved again as Angie gave him another shock. The pulse struggled, belting out erratic cries before falling back to a solid scream. The surgical duo gave a frustrated grunt before repeating the process.

-----

Gentle wind played with his hair and tickled his stung cheek. His fingers brushed against it, promoting another ache to ripple through his face. He winced, the sound of the slap he so richly deserved echoing through his ears. It was sharp, leaving gouging slashes in his brain as it reverberated through him again and again. As further torment, a voice bled from the cuts it left behind and joined in the numbing whispers.

"_You said you would save him! You said he would be okay!"_

-----

[Caduceus Surgical Ward – OR number 3 - 8:46am

"Don't you die on me!"

"Clear!"

Again, the same results. A hopeless scribble carved into the monitor and returned to drawing a solid, dreaded line. The surgeon's hands returned to press against the patient's ribcage. Sweat flung from his forehead as he pushed his body into exaggerated motions, thinking of nothing but getting a heartbeat. _He'll be okay! He'll be okay! I just have to get a pulse back. I . . ._

Derek's heart pounded in his ears, taunting him. He continued pushing and trying to stimulate the heart in anyway he could. It did not make any sense. He was doing everything correctly. Why was he not getting a pulse? "I won't give up!" he hissed. "He's going to live!"

The heart monitor hummed on, unimpressed by the surgeon's determination.

He continued with the procedure, desperately grasping for even the tiniest beat. He closed his eyes, trying to block out the beep. It screamed at him and grew louder with each agonizing second that passed. "He's going to live!" he gasped. "He's going to live! He . . ."

His words died on his lips, forming into deep and broken breaths. Derek opened his eyes. He starred down at his hands as they overlapped one another, positioned just over where the patient's heart _should_ have been beating. His own heartbeat weaved in between the constant sound.

-----

Derek took in a breath as he lifted his head to the sky. His sore knuckles protested as he gripped onto the guard railing, the purple bruises on his hands matching the shade of the clouds. They floated above him, silent and stealthily, breathing their somber color onto him. He blinked up at the fluffy canopy and twisted his mouth into a feeble scowl. He brought his gaze back to the ocean and let out a soft sigh.

The sun had dipped into the waters. Its gold form bled into the sea and cast a silent, dying cry as the rays slowly faded into the sky.

-----

[Caduceus Surgical Ward – OR number 3 8:47am

"Doctor?"

Angie looked up at him with frightened eyes. Her teeth were grit behind barely parted lips as she gripped the defibrillator at her chest level. He looked at her, seeing her chest heaving just as heavily as his own. Derek slowly removed his hands from the patient and clenched them into fists. Though his lungs were taking in desperate gulps of air, he could not seem to get enough. He felt lightheaded. This could not be happening.

"Time of death: eight forty seven."

He felt his tongue form the words, barely able to hear himself speak. He uncurled his shaking fingers and moved to close the incision over the man's intestines. Angie watched him silently as she placed the paddles back on the machine and turned off the electrocardiograph. She struggled to catch her breath as well, kneading her hands into one another as Derek finished suturing the patient up. She bowed her head and felt a sting of tears in her eyes as he slowly drew a white sheet over the body.

Derek removed his mask and starred at the mound under the sheet. Just an hour ago, that lifeless body had been a living, breathing person. A person that had smiled and shook his hand. A person that had trusted him with his life. A person that believed him . . . . when he said everything would be okay.

"God dammit!"

A loud crash followed his scream as he smashed his hand into the surgical tray, causing Angie to jump. Derek spun around and slammed his fist into the wall, leaving a spattered stain of gel and blood from his drenched gloves. His other hand followed and he was soon pummeling the tiled surface. Angie cupped her nose and mouth with her hands as an incoherent stream of profanity vomited from his throat. She watched, petrified, as sickening red and green continued to paint the wall with each grief stricken punch.

"Dammit! Why couldn't I save him?!"

Derek gave a final thrust at the wall, his body following the punch and collapsing against it. A choke burned in his chest and he leaned his head back, slamming his forehead against the hard surface. Angie slowly moved her hands from her face and watched as his shoulders shook. His audible roar was gone and replaced with angry whispers. She cautiously moved towards him.

"D-Dr. Stiles?"

The whispers stopped, abruptly bubbling down to soft puffs of air. Angie took another ginger step towards him. "Derek . . .?"

". . .Why couldn't I save him?"

-----

Soft footsteps drew towards him. Derek paid them no mind and kept his gaze towards the ocean. He was sure it was Angie, coming to once again tell him that he had done everything he could. If not her, then Tyler. Both had been attempting to console him all day. Yet, the moment a hand gently came to rest on his shoulder, he knew it was neither one of them. "A doctor's hands are heavy, aren't they?"

The aged voice was deafening against the hushed mumbles from the distant beach. He reluctantly turned away from the shore, finding his eyes locked with those of Dr. Robert Hoffman. "How are you feeling?" the elder surgeon asked.

"Confused." The word poured from his tongue, his mind not even daring to intervene. It could not, for it was all but churned and twisted into a whirlpool. Phantom blood from his mental wounds oozed through his skull, hiding the solid thoughts and answers he desperately reached for. Indeed, confused was not a bad description at all.

Hoffman had a stoic look about him, but his eyes were different. They rippled, like the wind giving a gentle stroke to a resting lake. Derek took in the look from the Director's eyes. Though calm and controlled, it nearly mirrored his muddled thoughts. "I feel numb and painful at the same time." he continued. "I just don't understand . . . why couldn't I save him?"

"I've seen the surgery footage. You did everything correctly."

"Then . . . why couldn't . .?"

"Derek."

A fierce squeeze of his shoulder shocked his body.

"Y-yes, sir?"

Hoffman looked at him severely, his eyes narrowed to match the frame of his glasses. "I hope you haven't forgotten what Richard said."

"You mean Secretary Anderson?"

"Think of what you did for your patient this morning, Dr. Stiles. You fought by his side to the very end. You gave it your all and refused to give up. In the end, your patient died, but let me ask you something."

". . .Sir?"

"If you had known of the outcome of that surgery before it started, would you have done anything differently? Would you have given up on him, knowing it was a lost cause?"

Derek's eyes grew large. He felt something rupture painlessly inside him. "D-Dr. Hoffman!"

"I think we both know the answer to that. That's all you need to know."

He blinked at him. His mental wounds bled down into his chest, eating away at the numbing blob that had formed within. He took a breath, directing his gaze out at the horizon again. "I . . . I want to keep fighting. It's just . . ."

"It's frightening, isn't it?"

Derek gave a solemn nod, his eyes still directed out to sea.

"Derek, you're still young. You're an experienced and skillful surgeon, but there are still many things for you to learn."

"Yeah."

"By the way, Mrs. Palmer wanted to apologize for slapping you."

"Oh," Derek brushed his cheek again. "It doesn't hurt anymore."

"That's good to hear." Hoffman turned his gaze towards the ocean as well.

The sun had since disappeared from view, its yellow yawn arching over the horizon. Though feeble and distant, it dried away the cold hemorrhages Derek felt. His mind was a far cry from settled, but at least the blood had thinned for now. Behind the churning curtain of stained water, he could make out a subtle glow before him, just as certain as the sun's dying arch.

"The sunset is beautiful."

"It is. . ." Derek mused. "Thank you, Dr. Hoffman." He slipped his fingers from the railing and turned.

"Where are you going?"

Derek turned towards him, a somber smile on his face. "I have a fight to finish."

-----

_The patients you operated on asked you to fight by their side. . . .as an ally in that battle. . . . Even if they became a casualty. Nobody understands that more than I do, now . . .Some people may be disappointed that you couldn't save their loved ones . . .but nobody is pleased that you stopped trying to._

Hoffman turned back to the horizon, watching the final glow of the sun disappear behind the sea.

_You don't have to fight alone._

-----

A/N: This is another entry for a fanfiction contest. The theme this time is Loss and Death. I hope I didn't confuse anyone with the jumping from the surgery to later that evening. Beh . . .

The next chapter of _Illness_ has been seriously kicking my ass. I'm so very close to getting it finished and hopefully it will be up my Tuesday or Wednesday. I'm looking forward to seeing how everyone will like this, but I'm sort of nervous at the same time. You'll see once I get it uploaded.


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